


Three men have tea time.

by escspace, Laryna6



Series: Fucking Around [2]
Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: M/M, Roleplay, Smut, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 13:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20976941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escspace/pseuds/escspace, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laryna6/pseuds/Laryna6
Summary: Ragar has a request to make of Frankenstein to show his appreciation for his friend; he only hopes that Frankenstein is willing to help. Raizel is there to guide him as well.RP with escspace and Laryna6.





	Three men have tea time.

Frankenstein had changed first instead of going directly to Raizel, with Ragar waiting outside the room where he changed. He had wondered if that was the time to broach the topic, but Frankenstein would not appreciate being delayed when it was almost the time he had appointed for bringing Raizel tea.

"Cadis Etrama di Raizel," Ragar greeted the Noblesse, bowing as he followed Frankenstein into the room. The Noblesse gave a dignified nod, and Ragar nodded in return as he straightened. Frankenstein hid his weaknesses, but he was always tired after his spars with Ragar. He always pushed himself to the limit. Ragar could only respect that and be grateful, when Frankenstein allowed Ragar to spar with him and improve, but Frankenstein was very wise, an existence like the Lord, and therefore an existence that should be honored and guarded. Cadis Etrama di Raizel would allow no harm to come to Frankenstein, and Ragar could only be honored that the Noblesse allowed him to fight with Frankenstein with naked soul weapons, even if the Noblesse could reach his bonded's side in an instant if Frankenstein was severely hurt.

Not to be outdone, Frankenstein bowed deeply in greeting, even if it caused some of his wounds to faintly protest, but they would heal shortly enough and were only a sign of Ragar's excellent effort in battle. "Master," he said, smiling a little. "I have returned from sparring with Ragar. I will prepare your tea shortly." He straightened and turned towards Ragar. "I must thank you for your continued aid in sharpening my skills in combat," he said with a genuineness he reserved for very rare people. This, of course, did not mean that he did not himself enjoy his own forceful weapon searing against Ragar's skin. The feeling was mutual, he knew. Thrill was something they both indulged in.

"Your level of skill is much greater than mine." So clearly Ragar should be the one thanking Frankenstein, for Frankenstein being willing to demonstrate how someone truly skilled fought. He did not know if it was alright to impose further, but he could only ask and Frankenstein would certainly not be reluctant to tell him to 'buzz off.' "Frankenstein, I wish to speak with you. I will wait until you do not have more important matters to attend to." Like Sir Raizel's tea.

Ragar requesting Frankenstein's company and ear was not an unusual event, and so he did not make much of it. "Perhaps you would like to stay for tea then as well. We can speak then. I will prepare an extra cup for you." And so he did. He quickly fled and quickly came back with the cart of the two things his master liked, tea and sugar, and with practiced grace set the table. He bowed slightly and bid Raizel over before looking between the one cup left unoccupied and Ragar expectantly. Frankenstein himself remained standing at his master's right.

Nodding his thanks, Ragar was honored to sit across from Sir Raizel and drink the tea through his mask. As always, he took his cue from Sir Raizel, who drank the tea slowly, savoring it. After Sir Raizel set the cup down, he finished and did the same. "I am grateful for your time and company. The Lord," who was very wise, "said that there is something humans do when they appreciate each other." He bowed his head slightly. "You are the expert on humans, Frankenstein, so I would appreciate it if you assisted me in this."

Nodding his thanks, Ragar was honored to sit across from Sir Raizel and drink the tea through his mask. As always, he took his cue from Sir Raizel, who drank the tea slowly, savoring it. After Sir Raizel set the cup down, he finished and did the same. "I am grateful for your time and company. The Lord," who was very wise, "said that there is something humans do when they appreciate each other." He bowed his head slightly. "You are the expert on humans, Frankenstein, so I would appreciate it if you assisted me in this."

Frankenstein's eyebrows rose a little in curiosity. "Are you going to say it? For someone who specializes in speed, you take your time with your requests."

Ragar remembered that he was much more direct when he asked Frankenstein to spar. He made a note that Frankenstein preferred that. "It is called 'having sex.'" He looked at Frankenstein, awaiting his explanation.

Frankenstein blanked and blinked. He wondered if he had heard that correctly. Then, he spotted the suddenly _very_ interested glance of his master on Ragar and then on him and was assured that he had indeed heard correctly. He could have sworn Master's eyes sparkled but turned his attention back to Ragar. "Do you know what you're asking for? Do you know what that is?" Frankenstein did not expect someone such as Ragar to have much of a clue, but he wanted to make sure. "What gave you the idea?"

Ragar shook his head. "The Lord spoke highly of it, one of humanity's excellent inventions, and Krasis Bluster agreed." Gejutel had seemed less enthused, but he usually was.

Frankenstein crossed his arms and sighed. "Humans didn't invent sex; it's been around for far longer than humanity." He felt compelled to get the facts right.

The sudden clink of Raizel pouring himself more tea drew their attention. He spoke softly and seriously. "The Lord is correct, and Frankenstein is...very skilled at it. You are wise to come to him, Ragar."

"M-master..." Frankenstein could not decide if he was feeling flattered or impossibly embarrassed. Their own sex life was usually a private matter. It seemed, at the moment, like the whole world was conspiring against him in some absurd, ridiculous way.

Ragar nodded. Sir Raizel was correct: "The Lord is wise, and Frankenstein is skilled in all things. If he is willing to assist me in training, I hope to be adequate at having sex with him."

Had Raizel been anyone else, perhaps Frankenstein would have felt a little wounded at Master so readily sailing him off to be had by another noble. And had Ragar been anyone else, perhaps Frankenstein would have immediatedy thrown them out of the open window. But Raizel was Raizel and Ragar was Ragar, and Frankenstein knew that they were precisely peculiar and genuine people.

Lips turning up with slight and somewhat defeated amusement, Frankenstein's gaze roamed over Ragar, and he, almost unbelievably to himself, wondered indeed how Ragar would be in bed. His long black coat and gray pants were still torn and nicked in places, and Frankenstein could see the skin underneath. It ocurred to Frankenstein, then, that he would not terribly mind _ this _ kind of company with Ragar. The man was, after all, decent in both appearance and character.

Sir Raizel, with his powers that curled and sunk into the very house such that it was almost like an extension of himself, turned the couch Ragar sat on into a bed. Ragar frowned slightly under his mask: the Lord did not want Sir Raizel to use his powers, but it was not his place to object.

Frankenstein was taken aback at the sudden change. "Master—are we—do you...intend on watching?" Somehow, things had moved very, very rapidly.

Raizel frowned. "I thought you did not mind me watching you while you slept?"

"I...don't." Frankenstein had started to feel a little silly, and he sighed again, endeared and befuddled. Ragar was watching him with expecting and hopeful eyes. He hadn't a clue what he was asking of Frankenstein, but, perhaps, Frankenstein would not mind showing him after all. He did not find an audience distasteful when it was Master, because Master had already seen and known all there was to see and know about him, but he had to first ask, "Ragar, are you comfortable with Master here?"

Where else would Sir Raizel be, Ragar wondered, and nodded, looking a little confused at the question.

Frankenstein tried being a little more specific. "Are you comfortable with being unclothed in front of both of us?"

"You have often removed my shirt, Frankenstein." Wasn't it a little late to ask him if he minded his clothes being off now, after all their spars?

Frankenstein coughed into a fist. He supposed that was one way of putting it. Deciding finally to simply go where the wind blew him, Frankenstein loosened his black ribbon and lowered himself to lean over Ragar. Their faces were only inches apart. He spared a glance at his master, who was demurely sipping tea, eyes trained on them attentively. So he really would be watching, and in the front row seat, Frankenstein thought with perhaps more amusement than he should have. His gaze darted back to Ragar. "Are you going to take off your mask?"

"Is that required?" It was tradition for the clan leader to wear a mask, but if a mask was clothing, and Frankenstein had indicated that he would need to be unclothed for this ritual.

"If you want to use your mouth, yes."

Ragar hesitated. He would prefer not to use his mouth then.But was it better to do so? "I will be guided by you in this," he said finally.

Frankenstein smiled wryly. He then settled on simply showing Ragar; these things were better demonstrated anyway. "Here's how you use your mouth," he whispered and pressed his lips forward to Ragar's behind the mask. He licked and wet it generously, prodding Ragar's lips apart with his tongue pressed to the black fabric.

Ragar opened his mouth as Frankenstein directed him. The fabric was flexible and strong: a creation of power that obeyed Ragar's will. It was easy for Frankenstein's tongue to press it in, to explore Ragar's mouth. It was such a _ physical _ thing, as physical as when they rained blows upon each other. He found himself surprised each second Frankenstein didn't bite him, used to Frankenstein's naked aggression, but that could lead to a contract and Frankenstein was already bonded to Raizel. Tentatively he pressed back against Frankenstein's tongue, feeling the silky fabric between them.

Frankenstein was pleasantly surprised at the grace with which Ragar received him, but perhaps that surprise was naive. Ragar was a noble, and being one, he was conscious of how he presented himself, always. This only encouraged Frankenstein as he climbed onto the bed and over Ragar, causing the latter man to lean back, lips and cloth still locked. Frankenstein, leaning over Ragar, brought his hands up, one to hold the back of Ragar's head and neck and the other sliding into and under that black coat, feeling Ragar's chest and ribs beneath his clothing.

He wondered if Master enjoyed what he saw, and from the gentle blush of the bond, he could tell that he did.

Frankenstein made a show of it, pressing into Ragar harder, swallowing and kissing him deeper, biting and sucking at the growing dampness of the mask that had started to make indecent sounds between them.

That was more like Frankenstein, Ragar thought as he tried to catch Frankenstein’s tongue between his teeth and pressed just as deeply in return in Frankenstein’s mouth as if to make a fight of it. Battle was something he was familiar with.

Frankenstein parted, catching his breath, and looked down at Ragar with a provoked playfulness. Ragar knew how to kiss back, and that was a novel discovery. The mask had become rather messy, he observed with some satisfaction.

Frankenstein kissed the shell of his ear and whispered, "There are other ways to use your mouth." His hand slid under Ragar's fitted shirt, lifting the fabric against his wrist as he appreciated the feel of soft, warm skin against his broadened fingers. Ragar was thin, but he was toned. Frankenstein lowered himself to his tight chest. He bit at at an almost indecently cute and pink nipple and teased and sucked at it and bit again, and Frankenstein wondered if Ragar liked that, bite and battle, even in sex. He lowered a hand to in between Ragar's thighs and cupped him firmly, kneading and massaging at his crotch with his palm, looking forward to seeing how Ragar, so reserved, composed, and silent---much like his master---would react to such forward and intimate touch. Frankenstein suddenly found himself eager to strip the man down and make that body experience all new delights.

His master seemed very much approving. He had set his tea down, now distracted by something even hotter and sweeter.

Ragar blinked at Frankenstein's touch between his legs. No wonder the Lord recommended this. His body seemed to know what to do: press against Frankenstein's hand, into his touch. His forceful, demanding touch. Ragar's body grew hotter at the thought of Frankenstein like this, pressing him down, biting... But should he not fight back? Biting would be beyond the pale; he would not do that to his friend. But scratching, he could do that, and so he raked a hand down Frankenstein's back, nails easily splitting apart the fabric but leaving only white lines on flesh, not welling blood. 

He winced to see Sir Raizel's wince, wondering if he had done incorrectly.

"That's fine," Frankenstein said, voice deep and reassuring to Ragar and bond comforting to Master. Ragar ripping apart his clothing was nothing new, and in this scenario, rather preferred. Quite impressed by Ragar's willingness to respond, Frankenstein ground his hand into Ragar's slowly hardening erection. Then, he reached inside, skin to skin and stroked him against his palm, sliding against it. "You can tear me up as much as you'd like," he said.

Ragar wrapped his other hand around Frankenstein's back as well, and pressed down with palms and nails, pushing Frankenstein against him. That seemed to be what his body wanted, closer, but he could not help but think that the pleasure he was feeling was supposed to be reciprocated. It seemed pressing that he should also cause Frankenstein pleasure. It seemed...noisy, however, to do something that would demand Frankenstein’s attention when he seemed happily occupied (with something Ragar wanted him to continue). He realized belatedly that Frankenstein would prefer he just ask. "It is acceptable to cause you pleasure as well as pain?"

Frankenstein grinned sharply, like one of those things he did in battle. "Oh, yes." He tugged Ragar's pants down and off, freeing his cock. "But do not think that I'll go easy on you." Eyes entertained, Frankenstein slid down and generously licked and nibbled at his length, working it to full hardness.

He thought of nights with Master, and though Master was initially reserved about pain play, he had quickly accommodated and learned that, to Frankenstein, pain and pleasure were woven into each other. Master had a certain style to his pain: a careful, delicate touch, utterly controlled as he watched Frankenstein with understanding eyes, causing only enough pain to be pleasing.

Ragar, however, was used playing with pain; it was something they did every week, and they hit each other harder every time. But pleasure, that was perhaps new to him. Frankenstein found himself curious as to what Ragar thought pleasure was.

Ragar found pleasure in grace, speed. Exhiliration. The perfect execution of a move, the rush of feeling alive: so many of those things, Frankenstein had taught him, as the human taught him this new pleasure now. He grabbed Frankenstein's collar and pulled him up to kiss him again, trying to roll them over—and if that failed he still would have twisted a leg around Frankenstein's, pressed their hips together, and if that was what his body wanted—and it seemed to bring him pleasure - then it should please Frankenstein in turn.

Ragar was, expectedly, fast, and Frankenstein blinked in surprise at suddenly being moved. He let him roll them over. Exhaling, he smiled, feeling a subtle thrill that was reminiscent of battle as Ragar forcefully gripped his collar and shoved him against the bed. Perhaps Ragar wasn't as clueless as he thought.

Removing Frankenstein's clothing was normally a way of keeping score - something started by Frankenstein on Ragar's clothing, but Ragar took to it quickly as an alternative to striking at lethal areas. A flurry of quick cuts turned Frankenstein's pants to ribbons and flesh pressed against flesh. Yes, Ragar thought, arching his neck. That was, that was a good move.

"I hadn't taken you for being so shameless," Frankenstein said, lips going to Ragar's neck and hand reaching down in between them to stroke them together.

He glanced to the side at Master, whose face was now a little pink, but his eyes still held a gentle approval. He had picked up his teacup again. This whole ordeal seemed to entertain him greatly. "You are doing well, Ragar," Raizel praised, perhaps to prevent him from being dissuaded or ashamed by Frankenstein's comment. Raizel was always considerate to a fault.

"Thank you, Sir Raizel." Ragar gave him a polite nod before trying to imitate Frankenstein's tactic of going for the neck. Perhaps it would be safe to employ his teeth with the mask in the way to prevent any blood passing his lips?

Frankenstein felt the pinpricks of Ragar's sharp canines against his neck. It made him sigh and shiver as he leaned his head back. His friend was a fast learner.

Frankenstein's hand became wet and slick with each other. Suddenly, he shoved Ragar over, switching their positions again. "So you like how your dick feels," he said. His fingers teased at Ragar's entrance. "But let's try your ass now." He pressed one then two inside, reaching and rubbing against him.

"Not as painful as it normally feels." When Frankenstein penetrated his flesh. Uncomfortable, yes, but there was no bright flare of pain.

Frankenstein paused, suddenly a little confused. "'Normally feels?' Have you...done this before?"

"You've penetrated my body before, Frankenstein. Normally with your weapon." Although he did coat his fingers in claws of dark energy and take swipes at Ragar often enough.

"Oh...right." He resumed. Frankenstein slipped in a third and spread his fingers, stretching Ragar out. He curled against Ragar's walls and reached deeper, watching that always masked face as his other hand grasped at Ragar's cock again.

  


Ragar went for Frankenstein's erection. He knew that at this point he would not have the skill to force Frankenstein to lose focus on his assault on Ragar's body, but he would not improve if he did not make a serious effort. Not that it was a great loss that he was unable to make Frankenstein's hands still on him and inside him: he could learn a great deal from experiencing Frankenstein's technique. And his own body wished to still and moan, only moving his hips to press between the hand on him and the hand within him. Frankenstein...was always very good at getting reactions from people, he thought, trying and failing to focus.

Frankenstein let out a pleased sigh. Ragar had a competitive edge to him that differered from Master, and it drove him to reach out and pleasure Frankenstein as Frankenstein worked his heated body.

It was actually rather superfluous to prepare Ragar very much, as, from his time with Master, Frankenstein had learned that noble bodies could be very conveniently accommodating, but he wanted Ragar to get the full experience anyway. Satisfied, he withdrew his hands and gripped at Ragar's hip as he settled between his legs. "This is a rather typical motion," Frankenstein informed him educationally and slid his cock inside, feeling a soft tight heat.

That meant that Ragar could on longer work him with his hand, but he was still touching him with his body? So perhaps he could... thoughts of constricting his inner muscles were driven out of his mind for a moment when Frankenstein thrusted. All he could do was hold on to Frankenstein, eyes widening at the man's skill and technique.

Seeing Ragar's eyes blown wide made Frankenstein grin, and he withdrew and thrusted to his hilt, one not of their usual weapons, but he hoped Ragar would enjoy this type of exhilaration just as much. He leaned forward to kiss him again.

Ragar's reactions were enthused and wanton, and Frankenstein enjoyed that. He resumed stroking that honestly twitching length. Mouth, cock, and ass, Frankenstein pleasured them as he felt Ragar's nails dig into his skin.

When Frankenstein shifted his angle, Ragar threw his head back and keened. He realized what he was doing only when the window shattered—_ Sir Raizel’s window _. He went stark white behind his mask. Ragar wondered how could he ever apologize for this.

Frankenstein blinked and immediately looked up with the dread of an emergency occurring _ right now? _ of all times. Glass littered the windowsill and the floor by it, but there was no sign of any sort of attack, except perhaps... Sound at the correct frequencies would be able to shatter glass. He looked down and stared at Ragar, who had an awfully embarrassed expression on his face as he tugged at his mask. Frankenstein's human hearing hadn't picked up on it, but by the look on Ragar's face, he could take a guess at what had happened. "You can't be serious..."

"Just...try not to break any more windows," Frankenstein said. He sighed at such ridiculousness, but was undeterred from pleasuring Ragar, leaning back down again this time to bite at Ragar's neck, a motion he himself enjoyed very much when Master did it to him. And he now knew where Ragar liked to be touched inside. With a little friendly meanness, he aimed for it again and again.

Ragar bit down on his lips to keep himself from being noisy again: otherwise it would be impossible to keep quiet in the face of Frankenstein's skill. It still felt good, even though he felt so ashamed... he felt another touch, and opened his eyes to see that Sir Raizel was patting him on the shoulder.

Frankenstein (though perhaps a little jealous, because that gentle pat was generally reserved for himself) beamed at Master's consideration, at least in soul. His mouth and eyes and body were still on Ragar and working him hopefully to completion. Frankenstein wondered if Ragar would actually loosen up enough to let himself cum, especially in front of Raizel, when such a thing would mean dirtying himself and his clothing, and Ragar was already and still rather embarrassed for his 'outburst.'

Regardless, Frankenstein lifted himself from Ragar and rolled them over again. "I want to see you ride me until you cum," he said, a bit demanding and wondering if Ragar would give.

When Frankenstein gave such a direction he wanted it obeyed, and Ragar did want to learn these techniques. Stiffly he nodded, shifting so he knelt with his legs on either side of Frankenstein. He tried clenching around him, because he had thought of that earlier, before lifting himself up - not all the way off, because his body wanted Frankenstein inside it. Emptiness seemed very unappealing when he wanted more, closer. "Come where?" he asked.

"Ragar, he means for you to ejaculate, to spill yourself from your cock," Raizel said. He demurely sipped his tea, legs elegantly crossed, like there was nothing in the world happening.

Frankenstein smirked and thrusted upward into Ragar.

Ragar took things so seriously and wanted so honestly to do things right, Frankenstein actually felt a tad touched. He huffed and groaned, enjoying Ragar's constricting heat around his cock, which throbbed inside. His hands roamed Ragar's skin, and he brushed against his nipples, teasing them again. "Who would have thought that Ragar Kertia, assassin class and leader of the Kertia Clan, would have such cute, perky tits?" He sighed and drove himself deeper into him, eyes closing.

He only opened them when he felt a liquid pool on his stomach. Looking down, Frankenstein was rather pleased. He rubbed at the head of Ragar's cock. "Look, you're dripping wet." He ran his thumb over his slit, feeling the cock twitch hard in his hand. He worked him firmly and relentlessly. "Go on, cum for me; don't be so reserved."

"Is it," Ragar paused, breath hitching, as he pressed down and Frankenstein's cock hit that spot inside him, "part of your technique to be so provocative in this as well, Frankenstein?"

Frankenstein scoffed lightly. "'Technique?' Ragar, you should know me better than that. It's just me." He appreciated Ragar's little reactions to him. The hand not on his cock squeezed his thigh, feeling the muscles tense.

So it was not something he should emulate? He should... be himself. Did that mean to be quiet, like a proper Kertia? Frankenstein did prefer it when he took swift action instead of pausing in confusion. He quickened his pace, reaching out to claw at Frankenstein's chest, since he had mentioned that area. His nipples seemed sensitive when Frankenstein touched them. But perhaps he should focus on the task Frankenstein gave him, and attempt to come. It would be hard to make Frankenstein do the same if he did not even understand what it was to experience such an event. If he knew what caused it in himself, he would have somewhere to start making Frankenstein come. Thinking of that, he closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of Frankenstein within him with a small, serious frown on his face.

Frankenstein liked feeling Ragar move on him, liked feeling his nails against his skin. It made him moan and made him also scratch at Ragar's bare thigh, drawing only a little blood as did so, far less than their sparring of course. But when he looked up to see Ragar so serious, he could not help but wonder if this was actually sex he was having or if Ragar had been sent on some sort of mission with that sternness on his face. "Relax a little, Ragar. This is supposed to be _ fun. _”

Sparring was fun, but if he did not take it seriously Frankenstein would do his best to remove a hand for the insult. Or was Frankenstein referring to the tenseness of his muscles? Did Frankenstein not appreciate it? Or did he mean to chide Ragar for distracting himself with technique instead of focusing on coming? A novice should not attempt overly-complex maneuvers. "I always appreciate whatever instruction you wish to give me," he said, opening his eyes, although he could not quite give Frankenstein's words his full attention with that feeling of fullness within him and the ache of his cock.

"Then all you _ really _have to do is feel good. You're worrying too much." Frankenstein's nails ran along his inner thigh and he liked the red trails they left there against his warm, supple skin. He smeared the blood with his thumb as he continued to thrust into Ragar, dragging himself against his lovely walls that hugged him so eagerly. He stroked Ragar to his quickened pace, and Frankenstein sighed and groaned in pleasure, letting Ragar know that he was doing just absolutely fine.

Frankenstein was always gorgeous: although fighting with Dark Spear was better for improving Ragar's technique with his soul weapon, he enjoyed the opening exchanges of their spars before Frankenstein summoned it, the feeling of his soul clashing with Ragar's. The hot, heavy flesh inside him was pure Frankenstein, Dark Spear tucked away deep within Frankenstein's soul, and he let himself press and grind, enjoying the heated, slick slide of it. More, his body seemed to want, and he bent down to set his mouth over Frankenstein's, be entered here as well.

Frankenstein gladly and fervently kissed him back. Biting at his lips and sucking at his mask and sliding against his tongue. Both of his hands reached around and cupped at Ragar's pleasantly firm ass, his nails digging in there as well as he grinded in return, body moving with heat and chest rising and falling deeply with it as well. He moaned against Ragar's mouth.

Fiercely, Ragar lapped at him, feeling the heat and the wetness, the warmth of Frankenstein's soul contained within his flesh, always now flavored with Sir Raizel's power, his regard. He thought of the Noblesse watching them, of Frankenstein exerting his utmost efforts to make Sir Raizel feel good... no, in truth, all he would have to do was be himself. As it grew harder to think in a way he became more focused, mind buried in the sensations, until finally even the touch and taste were lost as everything whited out in a rush of pleasure.

Frankenstein held Ragar closely, feeling him shiver and shudder and hold still as he ran his hand down his back. Ragar was so very quiet in his climax but the feeling of a warm wetness on his shirt and belly and of how Ragar tightly clung to and rutted against him was undeniable. "You did it. _ Congratulations _," Frankenstein sighed. Ragar constricting around him made him throb, and Frankenstein himself almost came, but he continued to slide within and against him, though slower and longer now.

It ached slightly, but then Ragar thought that this meant that Frankenstein wished to continue, and as he hardened the pleasure returned. It came to him to run a hand down Frankenstein's back and reach beneath his ass, fingers growing slick as his passage had.

Frankenstein arched into him. "Look at what a mess you've made on me, Ragar," he teased, a little breathless.

Ragar was familiar with Frankenstein's teasing. Noble courtesy said that he should immediately vanish the liquid, that he should apologize, be ashamed... but Frankenstein was human, and he relished such visceral things in the heat of battle. And was this not a moment like battle, full of heat and closeness? With the hand that wasn't tracing against Frankenstein's entrance he reached down and brought a drop of that liquid to Frankenstein's lips.

He was delightfully surprised at Ragar's indecorous motion. And Frankenstein was just as indecorous. He opened his mouth, welcoming those fingers, licking and sucking them thoroughly like cock. It made his own, still resting within Ragar, twitch. He moaned around those digits when he felt Ragar's other ones tentatively press into him.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder, pushing him up gently. Master was behind him, and as Raizel reached forward, Ragar backed away respectfully, sliding off of Frankenstein and watching with utmost attention at what the clearly more experienced Raizel would do. Master kissed his cheek. He was done with tea.

Frankenstein's breath hitched in slight but welcome surprise when Master confidently and deeply sunk his fingers into him, spreading him far apart for Ragar. "Ragar, you do not need to hesitate," Raizel said.

Ragar nodded. How often had Frankenstein given him that advice, not to hesitate? Sir Raizel was wise. If the noblesse was willing to offer him instruction, he could only say, "I am honored, Sir Raizel."

Frankenstein exhaled, loving how Master parted him so easily and so knowingly. He leaned his head back against Raizel, solid and warm. He spread his legs for Ragar.

Ragar reached for Frankenstein's cock, careful not to impede Sir Raizel's access. He observed it hardening in his hands and tried to mimic what Frankenstein had done when he stroked him.

Frankenstein hummed, very much pleased. As he closed his eyes, he thought he could very much get used to this—two bodies, four hands, two cocks—more of everything. Two people who regarded him well pleasuring him made Frankenstein feel like royalty. He pressed himself against Ragar's hand and craned his neck for Master's mouth that was hungry just for him.

Ragar watched as Raizel leaned against Frankenstein's side, setting his teeth to Frankenstein's neck, lips pulled back from them. Pressing just enough to indent the skin, but not drawing blood, and then pulling back to look at Ragar. Perhaps that permission for Ragar to do the same. Of course he would never think of interfering in Sir Raizel and Frankenstein's contract, not when making it had brought Frankenstein such happiness. So he nodded and set his mouth against where Frankenstein's neck joined his shoulder, nibbling and then sucking at the flesh there.

Frankenstein shivered and moaned appreciatively. This somehow felt impossibly intimate; it made him melt feeling them both against his skin. He absently heard himself whine, wanting harder and more when they were both so soft and gentle, maddeningly so.

But then sparks flew when he felt Master sink his fangs into him. Blood trailed down his neck. "Oh...yes, yes..." Frankenstein sighed. He clenched around Master's fingers. God, did he want to be fucked.

Ragar blinked and looked away, suddenly embarrassed like he was witnessing something taboo as his face heated, then wondered why he had. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen Frankenstein bleed before, even made him bleed. Such a thing was appropriate in sparring, and this was like sparring. He turned back in time to see Sir Raizel withdraw his fingers from Frankenstein and look at Ragar, indicating Frankenstein's entrance. Ragar reached to put his fingers inside Frankenstein and mimic Sir Raizel's technique, but paused when he saw Sir Raizel shake his head. "He wants a cock," Sir Raizel told him and Ragar nodded, going to kneel between Frankenstein's legs.

Frankenstein wrapped his legs around Ragar's waist, causing him to lean further back into Master. He swallowed and draped his arms around Ragar's shoulders. "Don't be gentle about it," Frankenstein told him.

Ragar smiled to himself. "I wouldn't insult your pride as a human." By treating him as if he was fragile. Ragar knew to trust in Frankenstein's strength after their battles together. Taking his cock in hand he carefully guided the tip into Frankenstein and then slid home, making it slick when it was uncomfortable at first.

His lips parted, and Frankenstein groaned low in his throat, hands clutching at Ragar's back. He took a stuttering breath, feeling himself be filled. "Since when were you this big..." Ragar touched him deeply inside, and he savored this.

Was big good? Much bigger and he would have difficulty fitting inside. But it was clear what Frankenstein wanted, so Ragar began to move instead of asking questions, thrusting deeply and creating a rhythm, watching Sir Raizel's elegant fingers squeeze a nipple, beginning to twist and torment it before slipping his tongue between Frankenstein's lips.

Frankenstein cried out wantonly before being muffled by his master. Unlike Ragar, he was vocal in his pleasure. Frankenstein rutted against him, already close to cumming. He squirmed in Raizel's hold and on Ragar's cock.

Being buried in Frankenstein's heated body felt incredible, it would take all his self-control to pull out if Frankenstein asked him to stop, but it seemed very unlikely that Frankenstein would do so. Ragar felt no shame at causing someone else to be noisy, knowing that Frankenstein was often deliberately so. It was part of his aesthetic to provoke and annoy nobles, to not comply with what nobles considered proper behavior when there was no reason for a human to act according to noble rules. Yet he was still honorable enough to be honored thus by the Noblesse, for Sir Raizel to work to bring him pleasure with fingers and tongue. And also with cock in the past, Ragar was sure, Raizel seemed experienced with the procedure. And Frankenstein would definitely wish to bring Sir Raizel pleasure in this way. The image was intriguing: the elegant Sir Raizel and the fiery Frankenstein, buried inside each other. Like this, it would be very easy to come, but it would be hard to thrust inside Frankenstein once he softened, and he wanted to make Frankenstein come. So he kept control of himself, although it was difficult. Frankenstein was long practiced at shattering noble control.

Frankenstein whimpered, finally given room to breathe when Master parted from kissing him to press his lips to his neck and shoulders and back. He pressed his heels against Ragar's lower back and lowered his hand to stroke himself. "Ragar—Ragar..." he moaned breathlessly, loving the feel of him inside. It occurred to Frankenstein that he could possibly take both Ragar and Master inside at once to be agonizingly stretched and filled--the thought made him throb--but perhaps that was for a later time, because he was a goner when Master bit him and then bit him again, making blood blossom on his neck, his shoulder, his back.

He shook and his voice broke when he came over himself. Frankenstein shut his eyes tightly, feeling the sparks of his orgasm overcome him. His mouth, drooling just a little, hung open even as he began to quiet himself. Sighing deeply, he sunk into Master as the drag of Ragar's cock pleasured and strained him so well for a first time, forcing a long, shaky moan from him.

'At peace' wasn't a rare look on Frankenstein these days: it was often there when he looked at Sir Raizel. To see him look that way because of Ragar's efforts would have made this worthwhile even if it wasn't so pleasurable. Now that he had succeeded in making Frankenstein come, he should likely do the same. It was easier a second time, now that he knew what part of his control to relax, what instinct to yield to. When the torrent of pleasure calmed, he withdrew from Frankenstein's body, regarding the white liquid on his cock and Frankenstein's toned stomach.

Frankenstein sighed in his warm daze and reached down to lazily sink his own fingers into himself, feeling Ragar's cum slide against his hand and pool out of him. It pleased him to feel and play with the aftermath of Ragar's pleasure. "You cum quite a bit," he commented as his hand withdrew. Frankenstein licked his own fingers clean, feeling absolutely filthy and not minding it at the moment in his afterglow.

He heard Master hum in approval. Raizel rested his head on Frankenstein's shoulder. "You have done well, Ragar," he said. He kissed at Frankenstein's ear then turned forward again.

Frankenstein smiled, an edge returning to his expression as he regained himself. "All you have to do is ask if you would like to engage again."

Raizel nodded. "You are not limited to Frankenstein, however, I extend that invitation to both of us."

Was that a good thing, the quantity of cum? Frankenstein seemed pleased: should he cum more next time? Frankenstein seemed to enjoy the liquid: filling him with it and having it seep out around Ragar's cock might please him. "I am honored," was the only proper response to their words. "I enjoyed it very much, and would be pleased to attempt it again, any time you wish to have me." No wonder the Lord in his wisdom recommended it so.

Frankenstein huffed, smirking and eyes glinting. He sat up off of his master and looked down at himself. "We should...clean up," before they received any unexpected guests.

"Ragar, it is proper that you care for Frankenstein afterwards if he has exerted himself," Raizel said, standing and opening a drawer to take out a soft towel.

Ragar frowned. "Will that not offend your pride as a human?" he asked Frankenstein. Surely Sir Raizel wouldn't do it if it did, but then Ragar was not Frankenstein's bonded, and Frankenstein's words had been vicious when Ragar apologized for wounding Frankenstein and even offered to walk him to Sir Raizel's. The agreement they had now was that Ragar walked him home after every spar, and Frankenstein did not refuse to let Ragar come with him on days when Frankenstein was wounded more deeply than was the norm.

Frankenstein smiled more softly at Ragar's consideration. "It is not done out of pity." He stretched his arms forward, feeling the pleasant ache in his muscles, and then brushed his hair back. "I could very well survive without it, but this is an extension of our previous activities: an expression of affection and regard. And...Master insists." Frankenstein's expression became a little sheepish. "He has taken it upon himself to care for me at least in this way, because I, apparently, do not."

Ragar nodded; he knew well how heedless of his safety Frankenstein was—how willing he was to lay it on the line, to fight opponents stronger than he was to protect the weak. It was very admirable of him, and that admiration had made Ragar wish that Frankenstein's pride would let Ragar help him, in the past. At least sparring with him was one way of helping Frankenstein, by giving him the opportunity to master his soul weapon.

Sir Raizel wet the towel and began to gently wipe Frankenstein clean with it, and when he finished with him did the same to Ragar.

Frankenstein smiled as he watched his master, always so attentive in even the smallest things. He also enjoyed the slight surprise in Ragar's eyes as Raizel approached him and tended to him as well. Ragar looked, at that moment, shy and small, but Master treated it all like standard fare; he was happy to be doing this, and this made Frankenstein happy as well.

When they and the room were cleaned and properly dressed again, and the window was fixed, Frankenstein nodded at Ragar firmly like a friend.

Ragar smiled his small, private smile and nodded back, always honored to have Frankenstein's acknowledgement.

Frankenstein bid him goodbye.

Master was right behind him. He placed an intimate hand on Frankenstein's lower back. "Perhaps Ragar will return tomorrow," he said, a note of optimism in his voice.

Frankenstein chuckled a little. Master was forward with his wants once he decided that he liked something. "I think he will," Frankenstein said.


End file.
